


Reality

by slutmariner



Category: Marvel, Marvel Comics
Genre: F/M, Gun Violence, lowkey smut but not all the way just making out
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-03
Updated: 2020-04-03
Packaged: 2021-03-01 01:15:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 698
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23463067
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/slutmariner/pseuds/slutmariner
Summary: Marc just wants to see her, but he must come back to reality.
Relationships: marc spector/scarlet fasinera, moon knight/stained glass scarlet
Comments: 1





	Reality

He couldn’t sleep. He never could, recently. Visions and voices… clouding his mind, and not in the usual way it did. Visions of her. Her voice echoing, “Angel,” a faint whisper. But it grew louder and louder the more he thought of her. The more he thought of their last memory together, if you could call it that. Her hooded cloak flowing gracefully in the wind as she runs forward. Away from him. Away from a chance—an opportunity to live the life she is destined to… with him.

Marc grabs his robe at the foot of the bed, picking up a quarter empty box of cigarettes—plus a lighter—and descends down three flights of stairs towards the grand entrance of his manor. The door to the back patio wasn’t too far from his master bedroom, but it was quite a walk.

Chirping crickets and a low breeze consumes the summer’s night sounds. Marc sits on a cushioned lawn chair by the back door. He ignites the lighter, the clicking sound echoing in his ears. He hears a gunshot, the same gunshot from that night. 

“No, Ma, what are you doing? Ma! NO,” the face of a terrified boy floods his memory again. His mother pulling the trigger, sending her own son into oblivion to save him. Marc never noticed his shaking hand with the lighter. A tear drop streaming down his left cheek. He’s stiff, he can’t bring himself to move.

He lights a cigarette, inhaling the numerous poisons. He looks up at the moon. Marc closes his eyes. He doesn’t think of anything, at least he’s trying not to think of anything. He sees her every time he closes his eyes. Her red curls hooded by her cloak.

As he gets up to walk back inside, “My angel,” he hears. He looks back. An empty yard. He turns again, “Angel,” but louder. He whips head towards her voice again. There she awaits. “Scarlet?” He asks in bewilderment. He walks towards her. She peels her crimson hood off her head. Her eyes stare up at him, a small smile formed on her lips. The moonlight illuminates her olive skin perfectly. He smiles back, a wide grin. His face flushed red, a few tears threaten to spill.

“How are you-“ “Hush, my love,” she whispers. Scarlet cups his right cheek loosely, Marc falling into her hand deeper. He grabs her hand and kisses her palm. And again, and again, and again. As her hands skim down his chest, he takes ahold of her small waist. Marc brings her closer, close enough with little to no space between them. 

They stare into each other’s eyes for seconds, but feels like hours. Marc moves his head down, shifting his waist towards hers. Almost lifting her short body, he places a rough kiss on her lips. As if she’s the only thing he’s craved for a millenia. She kisses back with the same force. His chapped lips molds with her soft ones. Teeth grazing each other’s as their kiss progresses. Both pairs of lips, perfectly moving insync with each other.

Their kiss escalates to want—to lust. Marc moves down, making sure to not miss a single inch of her skin as he makes his way towards her neck. Scarlet tilts her head towards the waning crescent moon. A faint sigh leaves her mouth as Marc ingrains small bites on her neck. Close to drawing blood, he slides his tongue over the markings to soothe the slight sting of his teeth. He places one last kiss on her lips. He opens his eyes for the first time—she’s gone.

She’s not in his grasp no more. His eyes frantically look everywhere in his yard. His feet moving rapidly. Small wet blades of grass grace his feet as he searches his property for her. No sign of any shade of red. Was Scarlet even really there?

Small beads of tears graze his face as he looks back at the closed door to his home. Standing in the middle of the yard, stiff. Legs gone weak, not wanting to move forward to reality. He croaks out, barely audible. “It felt so real.”


End file.
